


The Lords of Gondor

by alexcat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bromance, Camping, Gen, M/M, mention of Aragorn/Arwen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29400120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: Aragorn and Boromir decide to go on a camping trip for a change of scene.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Boromir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	The Lords of Gondor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monkiainen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkiainen/gifts).



> This story assumes that Boromir did not die and that he is an advisor and friend to the king. 
> 
> _Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" _  
>  _"I have seen the White City, long ago. "_  
>  _"One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guards shall take up the call: 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!'"__  
>  ~ Aragorn and Boromir (The Fellowship of the Ring)_

Life was relatively quiet in the White City once the wars were done, Aragorn married Arwen, and the two were crowned king and queen of Gondor. Boromir took his place beside them as Steward and Captain of the king’s army, instead of the ignominious death the fairy tales had given him. Frodo and Sam went home and eventually the Ringbearers sailed into the West. Arwen bore Aragorn a son then several more children.

Aragorn had lived many years, Boromir not as many, but he was getting on as well. They spent more time together as they grew older. Arwen busied herself with the work of a queen, seeing to the needs of her husband’s people while he spent much of his time talking to those who had gone on the quest with him, those who had stood with him: Legolas and Gimli, Pippin and Merry, and Boromir. 

They all tipped many a pint of ale as they talked of battles and wars. Boromir noticed the faraway look in Aragorn’s eyes from time to and one day, when all others had gone, he asked him about it.

“You are thoughtful of late, my king. What is bothering you?” 

“After all I went through to become king and save this land, I find that I am rather redundant.”

“How can you be? You’re the king.” 

“Well, I fancied that I would sit on a throne and make pronouncements and pass fair judgment on my people all day every day and that upon auspicious occasions, I would put on my kingly robes and preside over great and dignified festivals and such.”

“You have done that, Arag- sire.” 

The King laughed. “Please. We have known one another for more years than I wish to count. You mean more to me than any, but my wife. I think you can call me Aragorn.” 

“You have done the things you set out to do. You’ve united the kingdom once again, vanquishing the great evil once and for all.” Boromir still greatly admired and cared for his king. He remembered the days when he was more than friend to the king, the days of the fellowship, when they never knew if they’d die the next day. They took what comfort and pleasure they found when they found it in those perilous days. Those days had been gone for a long while now.

“To put it quite simply, my dear friend, most days I am bored to the end of my patience. There is only so much sitting a man can do, even if he is old and going to gray as I am.”

Boromir laughed out loud. “When did you realize this?”

Aragorn smiled at him. “About ten years back.”

Boromir laughed even harder. “And you are just now mentioning it?”

“I did not want to seem a complainer.” 

This hit Boromir as even funnier and he laughed loudly and long. Once he had regained some control of himself, he asked Aragorn, “What do you think might alleviate some of this boredom?” 

“I spent my youth as Strider, a Ranger of the North. I fought evil, carried information to those who needed it and lived by my wits. Few knew who I really was and I liked it that way.”

“I’m not sure there is a great need for such in Gondor these days.”

“I was thinking perhaps a trip to the forest to hunt and fish for a few weeks might be in order.” 

“That would be almost like being a Ranger,” Boromir said, not even bothering to hide his mirth. “Almost.”

Aragorn shrugged. “Sometimes, we take what we can get, my friend.” 

“Shall I come with you? Or do you prefer the Hobbits or Legolas and Gimli?” Boromir asked, hoping Aragorn would prefer just him. 

“What on earth would we be able to shoot or catch with any of them nattering on and on all day and night? Can you imagine trying to hunt game with Pip and Merry talking about turnips and mushrooms? Or Legolas and Gimli comparing all they do, as if none of us know about their great love for one another?”

Boromir shook his head. “I can’t. We might starve if they go with us.” 

“Exactly. So maybe just you and I will go.”

“When?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“You were ready for this then?” 

“I’ve been packed for over five years.” 

Boromir laughed long again. “You have been living on elf time for far too long. Some of us have short lives. I’ll be ready at dawn.” 

They met before the sun was fully up the next day. Each had his pack, some food, his weapons, and his horse. They were ready for their adventure. They rode north along the Anduin River. Staying near a river might ensure a better chance to catch fish, as Boromir pointed out. 

The first night, they made camp in a nice clearing and caught a few fish for dinner. Aragorn cooked them and they ate them with some carrots and onions that they’d brought along. The weather was nice, though the air did chill a bit after the sun set.

After dinner, they got out their pipes and filled them with pipeweed from the Shire. Merry and Pippin kept Aragorn supplied in the stuff. He only smoked it outside, as Arwen said it smelled worse than Orc feet. Boromir wasn’t terribly fond of it, but he did it to keep Aragorn company.

“This is the life,” Aragorn said with a smile, as he blew a smoke ring worthy of Gandalf himself. 

Boromir’s smoke rings looked like smoke. 

After their smoke and some time talking about old days and old battles, they decided to go to sleep. The King and his Steward got their bedrolls out and lay in them beside the dying fire. All was quiet but for the noises of nature. 

They lay there for ten, maybe twelve minutes. 

“Boromir, are you awake?” Aragorn whispered.

“I am. I’m finding it hard to go to sleep. Perhaps it is the excitement of being away from home.” 

“Perhaps it is the millions of rocks under our bedrolls,” the king said. “We used to fight Orcs and armies of monsters. Now we’re excited by sleeping in the dirt. How the mighty have fallen,” he added with a smile.

“Well, it could be the rocks, too. Shall we try to clean some of them away?” 

“Let’s clean one wide place and sleep closer together. It is colder than I remember here in the woods, too.” 

They moved their bedrolls and swept rocks away with their hands until it felt rather smooth then put their beds down side by side. They lay down. 

“Is this better?” Boromir asked. 

“I believe so. But it’s still cold. Do we have more blankets?” 

Boromir sighed. “We can put one of our bedroll blankets under both of us and use the other one for an extra top blanket. We should be warmer that way.”

“Let’s do that,” Aragorn said. They moved everything around and got under their blankets. 

“Better?” Boromir asked. 

Aragorn nodded and said, “Can you sing? Arwen sings to me when I can’t go to sleep.” 

“I can, but I am fairly sure it would not soothe you to sleep. I sound a like a dying warg. When we were young, Faramir used to cry when I sang to him.” 

“Maybe I shall try to sing myself to sleep, then.”

Aragorn’s voice was still pleasant as it had been so many years ago as he sang a song in the elvish language of his wife. Boromir did not understand the words, though he found it quite soothing and soon fell asleep himself. 

The sun was fully up the next time either of them opened their eyes. 

They rose from their slumber and did the things they needed to do before they made tea from their waterskins and ate pastries that Cook had packed for them. 

“She called it a camping trip, as if we were boys, sleeping outside the palace,” Aragorn said though he ate the cherry filled pastry with quite a bit of gusto. “I felt like a little boy going on an outing with his friend.” 

Boromir poured them a little more tea. “Maybe we are. Old boys but boys still.”

They ate after that in companionable silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sounds of the forest, birds singing, insects making all sorts of sounds and animals scurrying around out of sight to them. 

“What shall we do today?” Boromir asked the king. 

“We could ride north. Maybe fish a little. How does that sound?” Aragorn drained his teacup and dried it on his shirt. 

“We need to cut some poles when we get there.”

“We could try spearing them,” the king suggested. 

Boromir laughed. “I’m sure I’m not fast enough to spear a fish these days. You’re welcome to try. Besides, getting wet makes my knees ache.” 

Aragorn shook his head. “Did you ever think we’d be old men?”

“I never thought that far ahead. I tended to look toward the next battle, but not much further.”

“I have to admit that sometimes I didn’t either. I spent so many years as Strider that I never thought what being king would be like. I certainly never thought it would be quite so tedious.” 

The finished their breakfast and packed up their gear and headed north. They rode until the sun was high in the sky and stopped near the Anduin again. They fished all afternoon and caught two tiny fish. 

“Do we have some more food with us?” Aragorn asked, looking quite hopeful. 

“Now would be a good time for Lembas,” Boromir told him. 

Aragorn made a rude nosie. “There’s never a good time for Lembas bread! What do we have?” 

Boromir looked in his pack. He had packed most of the food. “Let me see. We’ve got some apples. Here is a turnip. Did you pack the turnip? And Lembas, no, actually, it’s that bread that Cook makes for me because she wants to marry me.”

“My Cook? She’s older than I am, Boromir.”

“What can I say? She makes me treats. A man has to take what pleasure he can from life.”

Aragorn shook his head. “You’re certainly not the stiff-necked bastard you used to be.” 

“Life is absurd. Surely, you’ve figured that out by now.” He pulled out something wrapped cloth. “Oh look! Sweet potatoes already cooked. All we need do is warm them in the edge of the fire.”

“More treats from Cook?” Aragorn asked. 

Boromir nodded and then he laughed. “Remember how much Merry and Pippin ate? Second breakfast? Elevenses?”

Aragorn smiled. “Hobbits love their food.” 

“And often! I’ve never seen anyone eat as much as Pippin. He ate enough to make an Orc fat!”

They both laughed, remembering the light-hearted moments on their quest. Boromir had been fond of the little ones, as he’d called them. They all had. Legolas and Gimli were often as funny as the hobbits, with their constant bickering and teasing. Better companions could not be found. 

They ate Boromir’s treats and explored the woods for the rest of the day, killing a couple of wild chickens that they dressed and roasted for a late dinner. Aragorn brought out some brandy from Rohan and they drank to the health of everyone they knew, or at least until the brandy was gone. 

“Let’s get some sleep. We’re old and need our rest,” Boromir said as they spread their sleeping rolls as they had the night before. 

“You’re old. I’m in my prime,” Aragorn teased. 

They lay down close to one another. 

“Did you ever tell your queen about us?” Boromir asked. They seldom referred to their relationship during their quest, not to each other or anyone else. 

“No, but she knew somehow anyway.”

“Was she angry?” 

“Arwen may have given up her immortality, but she is an elf in every other way. She is stoic about almost everything. I honestly think she was glad I was not alone.” 

“Sometimes I miss those days, but I am content with things like they are now as well,” Boromir told him, feeling oddly shy. 

“I’m cold, my dear Boromir, so scoot a little closer and keep me warm,” Aragorn said with a bit of a roguish smile.

Boromir did just that, holding the King of Gondor close and smiling to himself. Their love might not be the burning thing it was when they were younger men, but this friendship, this happiness was all he ever wanted, to love and serve his king. 

*

The King and the Steward traveled the shores of the Anduin River for several weeks. They ate fish and rabbits, talked about old times and snuggled close to keep warm at night. 

After they got home, they seldom spoke of their little adventure, but anyone paying attention might sometimes see the secret smiles and nods they exchanged when they thought no one was looking.


End file.
